


Bleak December

by SnailWrites (SymbioteSpideypool)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Car Accidents, False Identity, Heavy Angst, Lies, M/M, Major Character Injury, Minor Character Death, Private Investigators, Secrets, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-20
Updated: 2016-02-20
Packaged: 2018-05-22 01:25:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6065542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SymbioteSpideypool/pseuds/SnailWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It started with a suspicion. But when Dean pries just a little a sea of falsehoods and lies come bursting out. Betrayal isn't something Dean can handle, but Cas doesn't want to lose him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bleak December

**Author's Note:**

> Songfic inspired by "Bleak December" by Set It Off  
> Thanks to abbythegatekeeper for prompt submission.
> 
> Gimme, gimme, gimme the truth now,  
> I promise I can handle it if you can,  
> Cause you've been runnin' from yourself for way too long.  
> So gimme any reason not to cut you out,  
> You're far too gone.  
> Watch you pretend you know it all,  
> Shift any blame aside,  
> Vending the victim when it sells,  
> How do you even sleep at night?  
> As I drive and drive...
> 
> In that bleak December,  
> You're just too cold,  
> But I need the answer,  
> Before you'd fold,  
> You would hold your cards inside your chest,  
> I think I drove too far,  
> For that bleak December and how full of shit you are.
> 
> I really, really, really wanna know you,  
> And not all fifty fuckin' personalities inside your skull.  
> If you'd stop tryin’ steal the spotlight, and steal the show.  
> Then maybe you would have a better chance at not dying alone.  
> So I hit the road...
> 
> Now what are you to me,  
> But a fly inside a web of lies you weave?  
> You're not fooling anyone, not you, not me.  
> So I wonder how you stay alive when all I do is freeze.

One year. He had Lived with Cas for one year and known him for just over two. He knew Cas. Cas was grumpy in the morning and liked listening to Dean ramble and liked pancakes more than waffles and refused to get a dog because no one would be there to take care of it during the day. He was smart and funny and Dean loved him. So why was this happening?  
Maybe the company laid him off recently and Cas had been looking for a new job so that he wouldn’t have to tell Dean. Maybe he got a new job, but he was embarrassed about it because it was in customer service or something. There had to be a rational explanation for this. There just had to be. Why else would the woman at the desk tell him no one with the name Cas Anderson worked at that building.  
The thing that hurt the most was the simple fact that Cas couldn’t trust him with this. He and Cas have known each other for years. They shared all their secrets and promised to be honest with each other. Why would Cas break that promise now? Did he think Dean would be unsupportive or leave him? Maybe he was just looking for the right opportunity to bring it up. Maybe he just needed a nudge.  
When Cas walked through the door that night Dean greeted him with a kiss and brushed the snow off his shoulders.  
“You’re freezing,” Dean said.  
“I think I know how to fix that,” he grinned at Dean and placed his hands on his lover’s waist.  
Dean chided him, “Put up your jacket first, and stop leaving puddles everywhere. We have a shoe rack for a reason.  
Cas rolled his eyes but complied while Dean went to make hot chocolate. He dropped a candy cane and two marshmallows in Cas’s mug and piled his own high with whip cream before moving to the small dining table in their kitchen.  
Cas smiled appreciatively and stirred his hot chocolate with the melting candy cane, leaning into the warm smell of chocolate and cool mint. He took a sip and asked, “Did you put any cinnamon in here?”  
Dean kept his smile plastered on his face and answered, “No, I thought you didn’t like cinnamon.”  
Cas hummed slightly and continued to tentatively sip his drink.  
Thinking back, this was how a lot of their conversations went. Dean would ask a question and Cas would make a noncommittal answer. If Dean pushed, then he would deflect the answer. He wondered how much he really knew about Cas.  
“How was work?” Dean asked.  
“As good as can be expected. Did anything interesting happen at the garage today?”  
Deflecting. “No, just the usual maintenance type jobs.”  
“How’s Bobby?”  
“Better. He’s mostly over that nasty cold. Ellen keeps shoving chicken soup down his throat, so she probably had something to do with it.”  
They both chuckled. Dean realized he was rambling again, without getting anything out of Cas. “I’m glad I’m working at the garage.”  
“Why?”  
“I was talking to Amy and she said her brother is having a tough time finding a decent paying job what with the job market being the way it is.”  
“How unfortunate. I hope his luck turns around soon.”  
They sipped on hot chocolate in silence. This wasn’t working. Fine. If he was going to be difficult, then Dean wasn’t above spying on his own fiancé.  
He met with a private investigator the next day before work. He paid out of pocket so Cas couldn’t trace it on his card. Dean was a master of being paranoid. After all, he learned from the best.  
He spent all day preoccupied with what the PI would bring him. What if he made the wrong choice? What if this was overkill and he was working himself up over nothing? What if he was right? What if it was even worse than he had imagined? What if Cas was cheating on him? It made sense. Gone on business trips so often, staying so late at the office almost every day, the office at which he did not work. No. The bank account was still steady. Cas got the same paycheck transferred to him at the same time each month. He had to have a job. A really well-paying job.  
He met with the PI after three days, before he went to work. It was even worse than he had thought. The inspector pulled out a thick envelop and spilled its contents on the table.  
“You didn’t tell me your fiancé was Jimmy Novak,” the man accused.  
Dean was struck dumb for a moment, taking in the numerous photographs of Cas in all sorts of fancy suits with elegant men and women hanging all over him. Was he driving a Lamborghini in that one?  
“I’m not. I mean, he’s not. His name is Cas Anderson,” his eyes didn’t leave the photographs. He was in places. So many places. Some of them looked foreign and others ridiculously expensive. Others were in shadows in back alleyways. Oh god was that blood on his face in that one? With a trembling hand he picked up the photograph. It was Cas, in an Armani suit, holding a bloody knife, with red smeared all over his face and his fancy suit.  
“Mr. Winchester I think that you and I need to have a little talk.”  
Dean just nodded absently, his eyes never leaving the photo. The inspector removed the photograph from his hands and put it back down on the pile.  
“How much do you really know about your fiancé?”  
Dean still stared at the photographs, not even processing what he saw. “His name is Cas Anderson. I met him two years ago at a party my brother dragged me to. We hit it off and I gave him my number. He called and we went out for coffee and a year later he moves in with me. Las month he gave me a ring. We’re getting married in February. It’s going to be a quiet ceremony with a few friends and family, nothing too big.”  
“Mr. Winchester, what do you know about your fiancé?”  
“He doesn’t work at the company he said he did. He has a high paying job that he never talks about and he goes on business trips all the time. I joke about how I’ll have to call off the wedding because he’s already married to his job,” Dean let out a hysterical little laugh and gripped his knees, willing his hands not to shake.  
“What else do you know?”  
“He likes a candy cane and two marshmallows in his hot chocolate. I don’t know if he likes cinnamon,” he trailed off uncertainly. He finally tore his gaze away from the pictures and was surprised to find he was crying. He scrubbed at his eyes before looking at the inspector. “That’s it. I don’t even know his favorite color of what he likes to do in his spare time besides…”  
The inspector prompted him, “Besides what?”  
“Am, am I his side chick?”  
“Honestly, I don’t know. Jimmy Novak is a criminal mastermind and the current ruling power in this city. He owns the mayor and the local law enforcement. He has everybody here under his thumb, except you.”  
Dean’s eyes widened.  
“You and I are the only people alive with evidence against him. We could take this up with the state, find someone he doesn’t have connections to and finally make this bastard pay!”  
Dean stood up abruptly, “I’m sorry for wasting your time inspector. I won’t be coming back here again. Please don’t contact me ever again.” He made to leave but the inspector grabbed his wrist, hard enough to bruise.  
“Where are you going, we could nail him.”  
Dean tried to yank his hand away, “Look buddy, I don’t know who you think you are but do you seriously think you can show me a bunch of photoshopped pictures of my fiancé and, and scam me out of my money? How stupid do you think I am? The guy is secretive, so what? We all have our flaws. Maybe he just doesn’t like talking about his. We can work though that.”  
“He’s a killer!” the inspector insisted, crushing Dean’s wrist, “He’ll keep ruining lives unless you stop him.”  
“Get the fuck away from me,” Dean hissed and yanked his hand free. “Cas doesn’t want to get a puppy because he’s afraid it’ll feel lonely. That kind of a guy doesn’t go around murdering people. Don’t come near me again or I’ll call the cops.”  
Dean stomped out and didn’t say a word at work today.  
When he got home he hit the booze. He was going through the nice scotch today, because when your fiancé is possibly cheating on you or being a mob boss behind your back you really deserve a drink or seven.  
Cas didn’t come back until late. He knew that because he woke up to Cas picking him up, bridal style, and carrying him to bed at 3am. He pretended to be asleep. He wasn’t ready to deal with any of this yet.  
Cas was gone by the time Dean woke up the next morning. He had a late shift today, so he got to sleep in, unlike Cas. Dean soured at the thought. He got up and immediately regretted how much he drank last night. He staggered into the kitchen and found a glass of water, some pills and a note.  
“Sorry I was so late last night. I promise I’ll make it up to you tonight. Breakfast is in the fridge. Don’t forget to eat with the meds. Love, Cas.”  
Dean put the note back down and opened the fridge. Chicken curry stir fry. Dean’s favorite breakfast. He took out the plate and dumped it all into the trash before taking the pills and knocking back a glass of water.  
He tried to take a shower after that. He remembered vomiting and everything going dark. It’s a good thing he sat down before he passed out, or he could have cracked his head on the tile. The water was freezing. How long had he been out?  
He shakily got up and dried off; regretting not eating earlier if this is what it did to him. With a towel wrapped around his waist he made his way to the bedroom, their bedroom. He put on a fresh set of clothes and checked the time. How long had he been out? He was already an hour late for work.  
He decided to call up Bobby and tell him he just couldn’t make it in today, too sick. Bobby could understand that.  
He looked all over for his phone, but with no luck. What had he done with his phone last night? He still had it on him when he went to bed because he fell asleep wearing his clothes. It had to be in bed. He tried calling it several times, but with no success. Then he remembered the online phone tracking app he had installed. He flopped down at the desk and opened up his laptop, logging into his email and waiting for the computer to find his phone.  
That couldn’t be right. It said the phone was at a seedy bar a town over. Oh, now it was moving. He watched it move into the alleyway behind the building and linger. A sick feeling crawled its way into his gut again.  
He traced the red dot with his eyes as it moved again later, most likely to a car since the red dot sped up considerably. It stopped off at two banks, the mayor’s office and by three gross, empty streets. He watched with morbid fascination as the dot stopped in a parking lot and then started speeding again, following the road down to stop in front of his own house as Cas’s car pulled up.  
Dean slammed the laptop shut and ran into the bathroom in a panic. He was supposed to be at work right now. Cas would know he was still here since the impala was still parked in the garage. No, no, no. He wasn’t ready to deal with this yet. He probably would never be ready for this.  
“Dean?” Cas called from the front door.  
Dean looked at himself in the mirror and forced a smile. That looked totally fake. He’d have to make do.  
“Hey, Cas,” Dean smiled and walked out of the bathroom.  
“You aren’t at work?” Cas asked, confused and worried.  
Worried. For a moment Dean almost gave it all up. This was Cas, his Cas. But then he remembered the red dot, visiting other towns and going in and out of shady places all day.  
“No, I wasn’t feeling good earlier.” That part wasn’t a lie. “Thought I’d take a sick day and relax.”  
“Are you feeling any better,” he asked, voice tinged with worry.  
Dean’s smile faltered, “Cas, can I see your coat?”  
Cas gave him a funny look, but removed it and handed it over, toeing off his shoes as he did so.  
Dean reached into the pocket and pulled out his phone.  
“Was that in my pocket all day?” asked Cas.  
“Yeah.” Dean held the phone for a moment, just looking at it. It was a gift. Cas got it for him for his birthday. It was gold colored, inscribed with his and Cas’s initials, and had a rubber phone case with a smiling cartoon pie on it.  
Dean took a deep breath, “Jimmy Novak.”  
Cas froze. His face lost all expression in an instant. Dean was genuinely scared.  
“Who told you.” He did not ask, he demanded to know.  
Dean was terrified but he had to know, “Is it true?”  
“Is what true?” His face was still unreadable.  
“Do you murder people or run an organized crime ring or are you a drug lord? Cas, are you cheating on me?” Dean was close to tears at this point, knuckles turning white as he clutched his phone and Cas’s jacket like a lifeline.  
“Dean,” he spoke carefully, “I don’t know who you’ve been talking to but they’ve been feeding you a pack of lies.” He inched closer to Dean.  
“Did he?” Dean asked. “Did he? I watched you go all over today. Into back alleyways and clubs and what were you even doing at city hall?”  
Cas narrowed in on the phone. “You tracked the phone?”  
“I thought it was in the house,” Dean defended.  
“Who did you talk to?” asked Cas again.  
“Nobody.”  
Cas grabbed his bruised wrist and yanked him closer, “WHO?”  
Dean cried with pain and Cas finally noticed the bruising on his wrist. His grip loosened and he held onto Dean like a porcelain doll.  
“Who did this?” he asked as calm and collected as ever.  
“How do you know it wasn’t you?” Dean shot back.  
“I know because I would never hurt you. I created an entire identity just to be with you. Cas Anderson doesn’t exist. I made him up so that nobody could trace you back to me. I kept you out of that part of my life so you wouldn’t be in danger. I need to keep it that way, so I need you to tell me. Who did you talk to?”  
Dean looked into those dead eyes and snarled, “Fuck you.”  
He yanked his hand out of Cas’s grip and grabbed his keys off the table, escaping the house and starting up his impala. He needed to leave. Now.  
He drove away with Cas’s pleading ringing in his ears. Cas never begged for anything. Dean tried to ignore the emotions swirling inside his head. He could barely see past the tears, but he kept driving into the bleak December.  
Cas had played him like everybody else. That didn’t matter anymore. Cas didn’t matter. He was a lying bastard and even if he drove all night he wouldn’t be far away enough.  
He had been driving for hours now; the roads were dark and slick. A dog ran out in front of Dean and he swerved, missing the mutt and instead crashing into a tree he hadn’t even seen in the dark. The world went dark for a long while. Dean didn’t dare move, his fuzzy vision alerting him that something was wrong. He looked down slowly to see himself impaled on a branch that had struck right through the window.  
That, well it certainly didn’t look right. He poked it, and nearly gagged. That did not feel right. He looked away before he felt too squeamish.  
Think. How could he get out of this? Phone. He had left his phone with Cas. There was nobody coming down this road, and there probably wouldn’t be anyone else until tomorrow morning. He was going to bleed out before then. Cas. Cas wasn’t coming. He knew that much.  
He was going to die here alone, knowing that the love of his life conned him out of his only shot at happiness. No, he wasn’t going to take this laying down.  
Avoiding looking at the wound, Dean carefully felt around it, coating his hands in blood. It was in too deep. It was keeping him trapped in the seat, like a fly in a display case. He held up his hand, watching the blood drip down his stained skin. He couldn’t run and he couldn’t fight, but he could sure as hell try to make Cas pay.  
Cas had honestly seemed to care about his wellbeing, even if it was fucked up what he did to Dean. The worst thing he could do to Cas would be to take away his trophy. Dean smirked in smug satisfaction at his bloodied hand.  
Dean grunted with pain and exhaustion, looking up with pride at his work. On the ceiling of the car he had written with his own blood JIMMY NOVAK LIES. Dean’s eyes fluttered shut and he died smiling, thinking he had won.  
Jimmy Novak paid for two funerals that week. One for Dean Winchester and the other for Private Inspector Jerry Caplin. Jimmy made sure the car was never found.

**Author's Note:**

> It's unbetaed because it is way too late for me to care right now and I'm tired. So sorry for any mistakes. Comments and critiques are greatly appreciated.


End file.
